


Let's Freefall and See Where We Land

by bccalling



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Extended Scene, M/M, One Shot, Season/Series 02, s02e02 Summer Loving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-02 09:48:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10215026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bccalling/pseuds/bccalling
Summary: Mickey makes some confessions that leave Ian wanting more from their relationship. Set during 2x02. Extension of the dugout scene.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Random. I don’t know where this came from. It just happened. Inspired by Ed Sheeran’s “Where We Land.”
> 
> Also, totally unrelated, but I am still working on _Who Would Have Thought?_ I’ve just been bad lately, and I keep working on later chapters instead of the one that needs to come next.

* * *

_Treat me beneath this clear night sky_  
_And I will lie with you_  
_I start to feel those butterflies_  
_When I’m next to you_

_Tell me your secrets_  
_Give me a friend_  
_Let all the good times flood in_

_Do I love you?_  
_Do I hate you?_  
_I can’t make up my mind_  
_So let’s freefall_  
_See where we land_

* * *

“Thanks for coming to see me,” Mickey murmurs out as he lays in the grass beside Ian, his hands tucked up under his head. At some point Mickey doesn’t quite remember, they’d moved from the shelter of the dugout into the open space just beyond. They’re laying together atop the cool grass, the haze of arousal finally slipping away, and they’re left just the two of them, talking like it’s something they do. Like they’re more than just fuck buddies. And Mickey knows, in the back of his mind that he shouldn’t be saying this. Shouldn’t even be here. He should be walking away, leaving Ian behind until the next time the want gets to be too much. But Mickey can’t seem to bring himself to go, and for some reason, his mouth is betraying him and he’s spilling secrets he’s not sure he’s even admitted to himself. Part of him hopes Ian hadn’t heard.

“What?” Ian asks, unsure and timid as his eyes turn to Mickey. Mickey avoids, and Ian thinks that might say more than Mickey’s words ever could.

After a moment of silence, Mickey shrugs like it doesn’t matter, but continues, eyes still avoiding Ian’s. “My family didn’t even come out. Not even Mandy. And I get it. I do,” Mickey admits, but there’s hurt in his voice, and Ian hears it clear as day. “It was my own bullshit. They don’t own me anything. But it was lonely, all those months. Meant a lot that you showed.”

Mickey’s words drop into a near whisper, but in the quiet of the night, Ian hears. Carefully, afraid of scaring Mickey back into his shell, Ian shifts onto his side so he’s facing Mickey, his body close, and he rests a hand just beside Mickey’s elbow—close enough that Mickey must know he’s there, but not actually touching.

“I missed you,” Ian offers quietly. He’s trying not to scare Mickey off, but he wants Mickey to know. “Hated that you were in there—especially because of me. Hated not being able to see you or touch you. I know—fuck, Mickey, I know this can’t be more, but being with you—it’s fucking intoxicating.”

Mickey huffs out a little laugh at that, tipping his gaze so he can meet Ian’s and grinning at the soft little smile the redhead wears. Mickey knows he should run. Stop talking. Something. But he can’t. Mickey just hopes he can blame it on the sex-high he’s still running if Ian ever brings it up again.

For a moment, he’s quiet, but Mickey catches Ian’s eye and finds his words again. “I know I’m kind of a shitty person,” he admits, and Ian shakes his head just enough to be barely noticeable and ghosts gentle fingers over the skin of Mickey’s elbow, grounding and comforting, but not enough to scare Mickey off, so Mickey keeps going, a tremble in his voice. “And I don’t know why you give a shit, but I’m glad you do.”

For a minute, Ian’s silent, fingers tickling over Mickey’s skin, trying to build the courage to ask the question that’s been whispering in the back of his mind since their first time together turned into more. Finally, he pushes the words past his lips with a worried lilt to his tone. “Do you think you’ll ever let me kiss you?”

“Ian—” Mickey warns, as he pulls his arm away from Ian’s fingers to straighten it at his side. There’s no anger behind the move, and Mickey doesn’t pull any further away, not really, at least, but it’s clear he’s putting a stop to the touch, and Ian worries this line of questioning might be too much.

“It’s not—I mean, it’s okay if your answer’s no,” Ian tries, averting his eyes from Mickey’s gaze. “I just wonder sometimes, you know?”

“That shit’s _a lot_ , Ian,” Mickey admits finally, eyes seeking Ian’s after a long silence that leaves Ian nervous. “It means something more than I think I’ll ever be able to give you. And you deserve that. But I don’t think I can offer it.”

Ian nods slowly, face pensive. Finally, he meets Mickey’s eyes again and whispers quietly, “Do you want to?”

“Kiss you?” Mickey asks, fingers drumming nervously on the ground beside them.

Ian shrugs, picking at a loose thread on his shirt. “Kiss me. All of it, maybe? I don’t know.”

Mickey nods a little, and it’s not an answer, just a confirmation that he understands Ian’s question. He’s quiet, not really sure what to say. When Ian finally looks to him expectantly, though, Mickey gives in and offers as much honesty as he can. “Sometimes I think I do,” he admits, refusing to meet Ian’s eyes. “But I can’t have that. Not with the life I’m in. It doesn’t matter what I want.”

Ian’s silent for a moment. He watches Mickey closely, reaches gentle fingers out to brush Mickey’s wrist. “I wish I could take you away from it all,” Ian whispers out, and Mickey meets Ian’s eyes at the confession. For a moment, Ian swears he sees Mickey’s eyes glisten, and his suspicion is confirmed when Mickey shakes his head as he presses his palms against his eyes to stop the emotion that threatens.

“You can’t,” Mickey insists when he pulls himself together. “And you deserve more than me. You’ve got a shot, man. At making something of yourself. Being someone. I’m fucked for life. I’ll never be able to have more than this, now. What we have—it keeps me going, Ian. But you deserve more.”

Ian doesn’t know what to say to that, so instead, he shifts onto his back again, eyes avoiding Mickey’s. Mickey’s wrong, Ian thinks, because there is no one better than Mickey, not for Ian. Even if Mickey doesn’t believe it. They fall into silence again, and it’s not exactly comfortable, but Ian can’t help but savor the time he has with Mickey. Feels like Mickey might not always be there, even if Ian’s sure it’s what they both want.

But Ian won’t push, so he stays quiet, and closes his eyes against the heat of the night, fingers folded on his chest. He stays that way for a bit. Ian’s not sure how long, but it feels like forever with Mickey beside him, silent except for his even breathing.

After long moments, though, Ian feels Mickey shift beside him. Hears the rustling of the grass, feels the heat of Mickey’s breath at his neck. Ian keeps his eyes shut for fear that opening them might scare Mickey away, and that’s the last thing Ian wants to do.

Mickey’s fingers ghost over Ian’s skin, dragging down to the waist of Ian’s jeans before sliding up under the t-shirt Ian wears. With soft hands, Mickey draws patterns on the skin of Ian’s abs for a moment before drawing the material up Ian’s body. The move forces Ian to open his eyes, Mickey’s fingers urging him up just a bit so Mickey can rid him of the material that stands between them.

Ian gasps when Mickey renews his efforts, Ian’s skin suddenly open and bare for Mickey’s eyes as Mickey presses his mouth close to Ian’s ear, breathing Ian in and letting his lips skim over Ian’s skin. “I wanna taste you,” Mickey breathes out, the confidence in his tone colored by a tiny tremble Ian knows he wasn’t supposed to hear. Ian squeezes his eyes shut at that, his breath speeding as he tries to keep himself under control. Mickey’s lips press against the skin just below Ian’s ear, trailing along Ian’s jaw and down the curve of his neck, and Ian’s already a fucking mess. Can’t process the pleasure he’s feeling and the openness Mickey’s showing him. So instead, he sinks his fingers into Mickey’s hair and he stays quiet, lets Mickey take and give as he pleases and hopes he won’t scare Mickey off before they’ve had time to savor this new softness they’ve never shared before.

This is the first time Mickey’s done this for Ian. Ian can feel Mickey’s lips trailing down his chest, pressing soft kisses into Ian’s skin. And Ian knows Mickey won’t _actually_ kiss him, but this feels more intimate, like Mickey’s pressing promises he believes he’ll never be able to keep into Ian’s skin. And Ian knows then that this is more. That _they’re_ more. But he won’t say it, won’t push. Because all he wants, here, in this moment, is to have Mickey, really and truly. And he thinks maybe he does because Mickey's mouth is gentle, his touch soft, and Ian feels like he might be flying.

Ian has never been more in love.

When Mickey’s fingers shed Ian of his jeans, Ian lets out a breath, a soft sigh as Mickey traces gentle patterns into the skin of Ian’s hips. Mickey’s working him up slowly, leaving Ian desperate for the feel of Mickey’s touch, and it’s so different from everything they’ve done before. Feels like Mickey’s trying to channel everything he feels into this. 

When he has Ian undressed before him, Ian’s body laid bare, Mickey presses gentle kisses against the v of Ian’s hip, sucking a mark there that Ian knows won’t last, but that nonetheless makes Ian feel wanted in a way he’s not sure he ever has before. When Mickey stops, Ian lets out a stuttering breath and looks down to meet the other man’s eyes. The look Ian finds there is open, raw, like Mickey’s trying desperately to show Ian everything he can’t say. 

When Ian meets his eyes, Mickey lets the corners of his mouth tip up in a tiny smile. “ _Hey_ ,” Mickey whispers pressing another kiss to Ian’s skin and letting his fingers graze across the sensitive skin of Ian’s inner thigh. Ian smiles around the gasp he lets out as his fingers sink into Mickey’s hair. Mickey lets himself nuzzle into Ian’s touch for just a moment before he continues on a whispered breath, “This okay? Can I?”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Ian mutters, blinking against the pleasure and throwing his head back as Mickey’s fingers wrap around him, stroking slow and gentle until Ian’s vision is swimming, and he’s not sure he has the capacity to answer. “ _Fuck. Yes_ ,” he finally manages, pressing up into Mickey’s touch. It’s so different, having Mickey like this, savoring the moment and taking their time, Mickey so open and willing. Mickey’s sharing a part of himself that Ian’s never seen before, and it’s fucking intense the way he’s letting Ian in.

Mickey smiles up at Ian then, ghosting his lips over the tip of Ian’s erection before taking Ian in slowly, swallowing down as much of his lover as he can.

Ian can tell this is a first for Mickey, that Mickey’s never done this for anyone else. Sometimes, Ian wonders if it’s all been firsts. He’d never ask—too vulnerable a subject, and he doesn’t want to scare Mickey away or give him any more reason to shut down. Mickey’s always projected nothing but confident swagger, but Ian can see through it, and he thinks maybe Mickey’s never been with another guy. The thought thrills, and Ian hopes one day Mickey might be open enough to tell him.

But this—this is definitely a first. Ian can feel it in the way Mickey’s confident fingers turn tentative on Ian’s skin, unsure of how and where to touch even though Mickey’s a fucking expert at playing Ian’s body by now. Can see it in the blue of Mickey’s eyes as he seeks out Ian’s for guidance, if only through the pleasure written across Ian’s features. There’s a vulnerability in Mickey here, now, that Ian’s never seen before. Mickey’s giving for Ian, opening his heart and his body for Ian, and Ian hopes it might last. Knows it won’t. Knows that when this is over, Mickey will wander back into his own life, and Ian will be left to pick up the pieces of his own shattered heart because he fucking loves Mickey, but Ian will never have him. Not really. Not the way they both need. Mickey will go back to being the neighborhood thug and Ian will go back to pretending he doesn’t want more than a quick fuck every now and then, and no matter how open Mickey lets himself be during sex, Ian knows it will never go further than this, here. 

So when Mickey’s fingers give Ian’s hip a tight little squeeze to pull him back to the present as he takes Ian in just a little further, Ian lets out a little gasp and his fingers play through Mickey’s hair as he meets the other man’s eyes. _I’m here_ , Ian’s eyes promise as his fingers stroke at Mickey’s neck, shoulders, anywhere he can reach as Mickey renews his efforts, leaving Ian a shuddering mess under Mickey’s talented mouth. First or no, this is _Mickey_ , and Mickey doesn’t do anything by halves. He’s fucking _good_ , and Ian hopes this isn’t the only chance he’s going to have to feel this, because he’s quickly becoming addicted and he wants this forever.

Ian doesn’t last long. Not with the constant mantra of _Mickey_ running through his mind as he tries to process everything Mickey’s giving. He tugs at Mickey’s hair in warning as he gasps out a quiet “ _Mick_ ,” but Mickey just meets Ian’s eyes and keeps going, refuses to pull back and takes Ian deeper. Ian can’t help the way he whispers Mickey’s name as he falls apart—it sounds an awful lot like _I love you_ —but Mickey lets it go, doesn’t question or acknowledge or freak out. Just swallows down everything Ian has to give, and pets Ian’s skin as he comes down from the high of it all, Ian’s fingers ghosting through Mickey’s hair and then over his chin and jaw before reaching to trace Mickey’s swollen lips. There’s a haze of wetness coloring Mickey’s eyes—his efforts leaving him out of breath and all around a little raw, and Ian can’t fucking believe that Mickey’s given him this. That Mickey wants him enough to give so fucking much, and Ian feels like he could cry.

Instead, Ian meets Mickey’s eyes with a soft little smile that Mickey matches and Ian pulls Mickey back up to settle beside him, so close Ian can breathe him in, where Mickey’s still open enough to let Ian trace the contours of his chest with gentle, exploring fingers. Mickey doesn’t usually allow this, but it’s a night of firsts, so Ian’s determined to take whatever Mickey’s willing to give.

“Let me return the favor,” Ian finally offers quietly, breathing still shallow against Mickey’s hair as he reaches for the clasp of Mickey’s jeans.

“Nah,” Mickey disagrees, eyes following Ian’s fingers as Mickey reaches out to knock Ian’s hand away, “wasn’t about me. Was about you. Wanted to make you feel good.”

“Always make me feel good,” Ian protests, lips brushing over Mickey’s ear as he whispers the words. “Want to make you feel good, too, Mick.”

The spell is fucking intoxicating, and Ian _needs_ to do this for Mickey. Needs to solidify this new bond that’s opened Mickey up to lay his whole world bare for Ian’s eyes. Ian _needs_ this to be real. Needs to _make_ it real.

But Mickey closes down as soon as Ian murmurs those words, pulling his body away and straightening his clothes as he sits up and scoots a safe distance from Ian. If Ian’s being honest with himself, it hurts. But it also isn’t entirely unexpected. He’d just hoped the prospect of getting off would leave Mickey wanting enough to at least let Ian have this. 

But Mickey’s not ready and he’s given all he can for tonight, and Ian knows that has to be enough. And it is. For now.

Ian just hopes that one day, maybe, Mickey might let Ian love him the way Mickey deserves.

* * *

_It’s been this way since we were young_  
_We’ll fight and then make up_  
_I’ll breathe your air into my lungs_  
_When I feel your touch_

_Tell me your secrets_  
_Give me a friend_  
_Let all the good times flood in_

_Do I love you?_  
_Do I hate you?_  
_I can’t make up my mind_  
_So let’s freefall_  
_And see where we land_

* * *


End file.
